


The Other Side Of The Mirror

by epcot97, LyraMaeArcher, MalcolmReynolds



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-24
Updated: 2020-08-24
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:47:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25921552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/epcot97/pseuds/epcot97, https://archiveofourown.org/users/LyraMaeArcher/pseuds/LyraMaeArcher, https://archiveofourown.org/users/MalcolmReynolds/pseuds/MalcolmReynolds
Summary: The band is back in action once more!This time out, we revisit some of our favorite one-shots we've done over the years - and then have someoneelsefrom the group re-write it from a different perspective.  It'll be an ongoing collection that will grow as we continue our work in the Miraculous fandom - with, of course, our patented snarky author notes.So be prepared for something a little different, since the mirror does have two sides...
Comments: 19
Kudos: 60





	The Other Side Of The Mirror

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adrien's perspective to MalcolmReynolds' story, [The Marks We Leave ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23420431), written by LyraMaeArcher
> 
> Please note: I'm posting this before either of them get their 2cents in for the author commentary. That way, I can avoid conversations about how I managed to write an Adrien story while still allowing for Lukanette. So shhhh :P
> 
> MR: You forgot about my ability to edit. But seriously... I loved this!! And yes, while writing the original Marks, I realized how most of the adult characters have at least 3/4 length sleeves. The exceptions being Tom and Rolland (who never actually speaks with anyone, anyway).
> 
> Ep: Way to sneak a fabulous story past us! No fair sharing it with the world first. ::pouts::
> 
> MR: I read it yesterday. Just goes to show that Lyra likes me better. *sticks out tongue*
> 
> Lyra: Sigh. And this is why I tried to post without you guys finding out. I sent the file to you BOTH yesterday AT THE SAME TIME - just to prove that I love you equally as much. <3
> 
> MR: I love you too, Lyra!!!
> 
> UPDATE! Check out part 3 [here ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23420431/chapters/64375804)

For most people, the tattoos that appeared on their skin brought them joy. Symbols of lovers, of friends, of people that made a difference in their lives - whether for good or for bad - colouring their bodies in a showcase of beautiful artwork. 

But for Adrien Agreste, his tattoos meant so much more. He took time relishing them as a private symbol of freedom from the quiet solitude of his bathroom at night. New colours and shapes emerged after every battle. The colours danced in the light, bringing him a silent kind of joy and a sense of identity. 

For years, Adrien mastered the art of the quick change even as a model - keeping the tattoos from anyone’s eyes. Especially those of his father’s. 

A father whose cold fingers clamped around Adrien’s arm in a grip that felt more like iron than fingers. Steel eyes stared at the tattoos emblazoned over Adrien’s skin - shapes and colours that practically burned his body. Over one shoulder cascaded a series of dark butterflies entwined with so many symbols and shapes they were almost undefinable. Akumas. Stretching from elbow to shoulder blade and across his back bubbled in a purple haze, it was terrifying to see how many claimed a place on his body. Years as Chat Noir on display.

His other shoulder showcased the opposite - representations of people he considered friends and the symbols of the freedom he desperately and constantly fought for. A turtle, a fox, a dragon, a snake, a rabbit - animals that meant more to Adrien than others would ever understand.

A yin-yang symbol curled around itself in the middle of his shoulder blades, a set of green cat eyes peering through the darker side and a brilliant red ladybug resting in the other half, looking almost as if it had been expertly stitched right onto his skin with a needle dangling from the end. 

Finally, he could take it no longer, yanking his arm free and pulling a shirt hurriedly over his head to cover their design. The man had surprised him after a shower, standing menacingly at the bathroom door before Adrien finished dressing. 

Stepping out of reach, Adrien eyed his father - wondering exactly what thoughts broiled beneath the cold stare. The set of the man’s jaw felt ominous, a looming sense of danger tingling at Adrien’s nerves. Ripples of anxiety seeped from wherever Plagg remained hidden. 

“You are Chat Noir.” 

The statement itself meant nothing. It was the darkness that oozed from them that set Adrien’s senses to fight or flight. The slow curve of a lip that never smiled. The twinkle in a usually apathetic set of grey-toned eyes. Those terrified more than anything.

A single step backwards brought Adrien’s back to the wall. Trapped. Panic pressed in close, making it hard to breathe. His attempt to swallow it down sounded loud in his ears.

“No, Father. You are mistaken.” Lies. Always lies. Identities were meant to be secret. It took every ounce of his will power not to touch his ring, not to call on Plagg and scream the words that would cover him in protection. Silently he prayed that his father would believe him. 

“Give me the ring, Adrien.” 

Adrien blinked. “Why?” 

He should have known - the room thrumming with the sound of butterfly wings as a grin split his father’s face in a terrible twist of evil before transformation words even finished revealing the man as his greatest enemy. 

Stomach threatening to turn itself into a knot, Adrien blindly called for Plagg - the soothing sense of his suit sliding over him long enough to run, dark bubbles from his fingers crashing through the glass window panes to give him freedom to hurl himself across the Parisian skyline. Desperation of escape fuelled his footsteps, heavy clomping on rooftops and wild vaulting into between. 

Finally, he crashed, curling up into a ball in the middle against some unknown chimney with too many emotions swirling at once to process. Rage. Panic. Anger. Fear. Disappointment. Sorrow. Loneliness. Grabbing his baton, he pressed the call button - not even sure he could make a sound. 

“Chat?” 

“Help.” he whispered and she was gone. 

The baton clattered against the tile and he let himself fall apart, the safety of his costume melting away to return into that of his kwami who floated nervously nearby for a moment before settling into Adrien’s hair. 

The familiar whizz of a yo-yo hissed nearby. 

“Adrien?” 

She sounded confused as he raised his eyes to find her. She crouched closer, worry in her eyes. 

“My father….” his voice trailed off because how could he ever explain. A smooth, practiced movement had his shirt over his head, revealing the tattoos he never let anyone see. The evidence of his work as Chat Noir. Her mouth gaped a little, staring at the intricate weaving of villains and monsters - a new one appearing in terrible brilliance to connect them all. The Gabriel Butterfly Logo. 

“He’s Hawkmoth.” 

Suddenly, her arms were around him, letting him grieve, keeping him whole. Murmured words of compassion and support from her lips soothed his wounds. Finally, she let him go, carefully watching his face for clues of… something, he supposed. 

“Where’s Luka?” he asked, voice far more emotional than he ever wanted. She started slightly, blinking in surprise but saying nothing. “Viperion. He’s got to be around here somewhere. He’s never too far from your side, Marinette.” She squeaked a little, wide-eyed. 

“How do you-” He tried to smile, despite everything. Turning his back to her, he tapped at the middle of his shoulder blades. 

“The ladybug tattoo. It’s practically stitched to my skin. Who do I know who sews better than you?” Her eyes grew impossibly wider as she studied the symbol on his back. He paused for a moment to stare at the animals on his arm, the colours more vibrant than ever. He pulled his shirt back over his head.

“Get Luka. Get the team. Let’s figure out how to beat Hawkmoth once and for all.” 

She nodded as he pulled her in for a quick hug, lips against her forehead. God, he loved her. They were two halves of a whole. Two parts of the team. Family didn’t have to be blood. Sometimes a family was more. Sometimes tattoos show the truth about family. 


End file.
